


Deployed

by Enid_Black



Series: Inspired by random fanarts [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Don't worry, I'm unable to make angst last XD, M/M, a bit angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enid_Black/pseuds/Enid_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by this gifset: http://riley-coyote.tumblr.com/post/61428111292/klaine-au-blaine-joins-the-army-but-goes  just a very very short thing I wrote in a very short time.</p><p>Inspiration struck and and I had to follow her!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deployed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chu_1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chu_1/gifts).



> For Chu_1, who brought this gifset to my eyes and triggered the inspiration :)... thanks darling!

Kurt wasn’t ok with Blaine joining the army. But his boyfriend, 23 years old, had given him such a convincing speech on protecting the nation AND the love of his life, that he couldn’t possibly deny it to him. He was proud of Blaine Anderson, the day he left for Afghanistan. That didn’t mean that he didn’t cry sour tears as soon as Blaine went on the plane, crying into Burt’s arms for a good hour.

For a while, everything went well. Or at least as well as it could. The lifting of the “Don’t ask, don’t tell” had meant that they could exchange letters without worrying about that, and their letters were full of love and hope. And every and each one of Blaine’s ended with the same words: “I promise you, I’m coming home. Blaine. xoxo”

Then, one day, one of Kurt’s letter went unanswered. He tried to tell himself that the mail service was unreliable and that it wasn’t what he was thinking, even if the dread crept in his heart day after day. Then, one day, when he was sitting at McKinley for a lesson made by the alumni to the new Glee Club (Finn had asked him to come again, even to be able to distract Kurt a bit), Burt knocked at the door with an ashen face and bringing a letter. Kurt looked at him and felt sick. He stood up slowly and went to his father.

"Buddy I… you received this, this morning. I came here because… well, I think it’s important." Kurt nodded and took the letter, going into an empty classroom, followed by Burt. He opened the letter and two thin metal plates fell in his hand. Blaine’s. He didn’t bother reading the letter inside, that surely said something along the lines of “Dear Mr Hummel, we regret to inform you…”. He collapsed on his knees, crying out and calling Blaine’s name. Burt kept him tight, crying with his son, for his son and for the boy he had considered a son for the last seven years.

The days passed in a blur for Kurt, then. The Andersons had organized a small function, a small funeral. No body had been found, only the plates, and thus Blaine had been listed as Dead In Action. Cooper looked stricken and hugged him, Kurt did the same clinging to his beloved’s brother, trying to give comfort, at least, because he seemed unable to be comforted.

Kurt wanted to sit alone during the function, he didn’t speak a word, he didn’t sing a word. Wes and David had flew by and held the speeches, remembering their friend dearly. Cooper went next, his speech so different from his usual dramatics, so heartfelt and… broken. Kurt couldn’t say anything. He went to the coffin and laid three yellow and red roses, tears falling freely from his eyes.

He went back to New York, and Isabelle had given him some weeks, because she didn’t want him to feel pressured to work when he didn’t feel up to it. But after a day in the house, alone, in the house they had shared… he couldn’t stand it anymore. He went back to work, making impossible hours, exhausting himself so that he could come back home, eat a bit and go straight to bed ( _their bed, no, his bed now_ ) and cry himself to sleep every single night.

This happened for the first 6 months, then, slowly, life started to become a bit more bearable. He still missed Blaine, but at least didn’t cry every night. Anyway, every time Rachel tried to invite him out, he would smile sadly and refuse. He didn’t feel like that.

The first anniversary was hard. He took the day for himself, refused to go to Lima to visit his grave ( _his empty grave, he is not there_ ). He took the plates from under his shirt (he always wore them under his clothes, sometimes touching them during the day if he felt weak or tired or just because) and spent the night crying on the couch with a photo album in his lap and the plates in his hands.

Rachel - and then Santana, and then Mercedes, and even Sam, he even had Puck coming to New York trying to cheer him up - always tried to bring him out. And he refused every single time.

That is why, a year and half after that dreadful day, on a Friday night, he was home when the bell rang at 10 pm. He had had a late day at the office and was still in his work clothes (fashionable and dark).

He went to the door asking himself what had Puck invented this time, and was stunned when, opening it, he found himself in front of an enormous bunch of flowers that totally covered its holder’s face. The mistery didn’t last long, anyway, because, slowly, a face came out from the flowers. The hair were gelled down, a bit too much really, the absurd triangular eyebrows were lifted in hope. The hazel eyes glistened in the poor light of the entrance, wet with tears that promised to come. He was still short and trimmed and everything Kurt remembered.

“Blaine…” he murmured, incredulous. Blaine smiled and a tear escaped his eyes. Kurt felt his legs give out under him, and Blaine put the flowers aside to crouch next to him, taking Kurt’s face in his hands. He was still beautiful, but had dark circles under his eyes, and seemed so so sad.

“Blaine you… they… they sent me your plates, they said you were dead, they…” Kurt started, his hands roaming on Blaine’s shoulders, arms, chest, neck. Blaine silenced him with a kiss, the first kiss in almost two years. Kurt’s hands went to his shoulders, embracing him, keeping him near.

“Hey, hush, love, hush… I’m back. I promised I would come home… and here I am.” he murmured against Kurt’s lips, a sob escaping the countertenor’s throat as more tears - tears of joy - started to flow on his face.

“ _Blaine…_ ” he sobbed, the compact man taking him in his arms and keeping him tight. The door was still open, the flowers were in a heap on the floor but they didn’t care about that.

Some minutes later, tears finally seemed to find a moment of truce. Blaine stood up and helped Kurt to his feet. He closed the door and retrieved the roses from the floor. Kurt took them and put them on the small table near the door.

“I’ll think to them later. Now I think you need to explain me some things… ” Kurt said. Blaine nodded, smiling to him again, and took his hand, guiding him on the couch, when they spent the night talking and crying and laughing and kissing and finally being together again.


End file.
